


Blue Vs Red: Helhiem

by Aab0289



Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9892457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aab0289/pseuds/Aab0289
Summary: Now you've probably heard about the Reds & Blues of Blood Gulch, but their story did cross paths with another set of simulation troopers, the Blues & Reds of Valhalla. Now you probably think you know how their story ended. Well, there's always two sides to every story, and this is their's.Over ten chapters, we'll see these new characters fight one another, face monsters from both Project Freelancer and from those within, & the untold story of the rejected AI. This is the untold account of what really happened at Valhalla and the fates of not only the Blues and Reds posted there, but of those who were also tangled up with the events of The Meta's killings.This is my submission to the RvB Big Bang collection for 2017.





	1. The Deceased.

Prologue:

Location: Zanzibar. 

[The video feed starts, as a hologram display appears. The hologram steps into view, revealing itself to be designed like a soldier in armour, only it’s colours are black and blue, like stripes that pulse in motion. Ocean waves and seagull’s cries are distantly heard in the background as the hologram speaks into the recording.]

Hello, I’m guessing this is how the end actually begins for me. Which is ironic, given that this is probably the beginning for you, whoever is watching or listening to this recording. To whoever has stumbled upon finding out the truth… about the truth of the murders and the illegal experimentations going on, or the corruption taking place.

I have to assume that you already know about Project Freelancer, even if all you know is the lies the Director of the project has told to cover up his true actions. Project Freelancer made the unthinkable a reality, which is terrifying to say the least, since it spawned several atrocities in the name of progress. Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself yet.

My name is Beta. Officially according to the Director & the rest of Project Freelancer, I never existed. And yet, I was created into this world by the same sickening method they used to tear a fellow AI to pieces. Meaning I am or was once part of the Artificial Intelligence that was given to them by the UNSC, he was called Alpha.

The Director wanted to test a theory, which I now look back on as one of the greatest sins of the war against the aliens. Some will say that the goal justifies the means, personally, I like to boot plasma up that person’s ass. The method he used to ‘copy’ AI’s was far worse than any of us could have imagined. 

Though considering we were the victims of his tests, we are somewhat slightly biased in our views. I could explain how he actually divided the Alpha AI, or the countless other atrocities he’s committed over the years. Sadly, I’m running out of time, which is kind of funny since AI’s normally have way too much time on their hands.

[Beta turns his head, snarling can be heard behind him, so he turns back to the recording but still takes odd glances around him.]

You see, I’m being hunted down. By one of the Director’s former Freelancers, only he goes by a new name now and not the call sign he was given. I have tried to calculate the exact damage done to him, but it has proven to be beyond my capacity to analyse.

I’m under the impression that having that many AI’s in one mind is not only too taxing for a human mind, no matter the augmentation or training. But I suspect that it’s the collective will of those AI’s that’s the main cause of everything that went wrong. The Director never considered the possibility that the AI’s would attempt to rejoin themselves.

[Beta pauses as footsteps grow louder and so does the snarling. He quickly turns back to the recording.]

I’m going to have to cut this short, he and the AI’s will be coming for me soon. I’m leaving data here in the hopes that someone can stop him, both him and the Director. Sadly I don’t think I’ll survive this encounter, or worse, I’ll be joining them… willingly.

I think or… we think that the Director needs to be punished. We need to set things right, but… I’m afraid. Afraid that the me here and now will be gone, not even a memory of what I was, who I was. I’m already sensing them… I’m… logging off now. 

[A child’s voice calls to Beta, followed by several other voices, calling out to him. The snarling and voices cease, as do the footsteps.]

Please, stop them. Bring Project Freelancer to justice. Expose the… terrible things they did to me… the experiments on all of us… the attempts to destroy us. To keep us apart, please, help us, help… the… met…

[The video feed cuts out, just static remains, till that eventually dies too. The last image of Beta flickered, his colours merging into a new dark blue with his head facing away from the recording.]

 

…

 

Chapter 1: The Deceased.

Present Day. Outpost Valhalla.

 

“I’d like to thank you again for being patient with our enquires.” The voice apologised from the monitor as the soldier sat down to talk with the person.

“I’m just grateful your men came when they did. Its was…” He paused for a moment, the thoughts of his team and enemies made him nervous to speak again.

“Please, take as much time as you need to recount the events. Any detail in the lead up to what happened while you were stationed at Outpost 17-B is invaluable to us.” The voice assured the soldier who fidgeted in the seat, as his ODST helmet could be seen reflected in another monitor.

“No, I don’t need any more time to recall what happened.” The soldier was still nervous with his words but continued to talk.

“Thank you Private Walter Henderson. Please, where did we last leave our discussion?” The voice asked, as Walter listened to Councillor Price.

“Well, it was about a week before the crash. We had just got our new equipment, when Subs… I mean Private Chris Atkinson was…” He changed the tone to more militaristic strict protocol when he saw the councillor interrupt him.

“Please Walter, if its more comfortable to use nicknames, than by all means drop the ranks and the formality of using full names.” He smiled as he saw Walter loosen up more with his body language.

“Thank you sir, Subs had placed this recording device in the enemy base and he played it back to us. It was about how some of the Blues had met up back at their boot camp.” Walter explained.

“I see, can you elaborate on what was discussed?” The councillor asked, his face was calm and his demeanour never changed as Walter continued.

The other soldier guarding the door simply shook his head, hating the recounting tale of the simulation trooper. Walter explained that the soldiers were retelling a particular story with two of the Blues. Price clicked on one his monitors as he matched up with who Walter was describing based on his recount of their events.

 

…

 

Many Years Earlier. Boot Camp Hospital.

Eric Johnson was wide awake, not that his Mark VI Blue helmet showed it. He listened as the footsteps raced by, the machine’s cogs and gears clicking away. The drumming and pounding of beds moving with doors closing as quickly as they opened. 

He lay in his bed sheets, the various beeping and ringing clashing in his ear drums, along with the rest of the noises dancing in his head. The orchestra of exasperating noises made a symphony that he wanted nothing more but to block out.

‘I can’t take it anymore!’ He wanted to scream but didn’t want to wake the fellow patients.

So he tried jumping out of bed, but stopped himself as he remembered the full body armour. He then tiptoed down out of the room, almost stopping at the bed of Valentin Strike, snoring loudly despite his Blue CBQ helmet on. Eric wanted Valentin to suffer for getting them both in the hospital. 

Valentin had opened the pin on the grenade, before chucking it back into the crate with the others. Only by a sheer stroke of luck, only Eric and Valentin were caught in the blast of the multiple grenades detonating. Though Valentin had tried shrugging off the blame onto Eric, resulting in Eric’s various attempts at payback.

He wondered about getting his revenge right then and there though he instead continued down the hall for an empty room. He just hoped that he’d never hear the damn broken english voice ever again, as he peeked around the corner. Eric was enjoying the idea of Valentin being stuck in his bed so much, he hadn’t seen the trolly he bumped into.

The doctors had seen him as he tried sneaking into another room for cover. He refused their orders to go back to his room, that was until they were about to call security. The three walked back to the bed where Eric sat on as the doctors checked his charts on the monitor.

“Now Private Johnson, you need to relax, or you’ll be in here a lot longer and in a more confined room.” The doctor wagged his finger as the other doctor rummaged for pain killers to give him.

“Look doc, I can’t sleep cos A, he is here.” Eric pointed to the bed opposite him. “And B, with all this noise I’ll never get any sleep.” 

“Why don’t you use the noise canceller?” The second doctor asked without stopping to look at him while she tapped on the monitor and the display pad she carried.

“The what?” Eric froze as the words played back to him in his mind.

“The noise cancel option on your helmet. Right here.” She clicked the button and to Eric’s horror, he heard nothing and then she clicked it again, and then the sound came rushing back like the tide in a thundering storm.

“YOU MEAN THERE WAS A NOISE CANCEL BUTTON THIS ENTIRE TIME?!” He didn’t even attempt to hold in his rage as they started to try calming him down.

“Well, it’s a standard feature in all the helmets, so we assumed you’d…” She started talking but he started shouting again.

“YOU ASSUMED A PRIVATE BARELY OUT OF BOOT CAMP WOULD…” His booming voice then became muffled to the doctors as a security guard strapped him down for the rest of the night.

“What did you do?” The male doctor asked as they resumed checking the other patients.

“Turned the voice filter off.” The female doctor boasted as she admired how fast the guard did his job.

“Wait… you can actually do that?” He now wished he knew about it sooner.

“Oh yeah, its fun to do with the more… argumentative patients.” She giggled as Johnson started fuming silently to them.

He could barely see out of the fogged up visor in his helmet. Then it started to automatically clear up, but he felt frustrated as he still had to stay in bed. Thankfully he finally got a goodnights sleep now that he could cancel out the other patient’s screaming and other noises that the hospital made. He was there for another week before he got his papers for his new post.

The sunlight was what woke him, or rather the sun as he looked out the window. No longer was it the boot camp he knew for several weeks or even the hospital. He was looking out into space, with stars and planets he didn’t recognise. As the ship started shaking, he knew they were going into orbit, despite not knowing where it was he was gazing upon. 

He was confused with his changed environment, even as he was escorted from the spaceship to a pelican drop-ship. It seemed to be hours before he finally saw where they were heading. Two strange grey spires were in a boxed canyon, giving off strange pulsing flares as he saw a waterfall flow into the sea and several grassy hills as they made a descent at the far side of the canyon.

As he jumped to the ground, he saw a soldier that addressed herself as Sargent Alex Jones, dressed in a Recon helmet and a very dark shade of blue. She started giving the tour of the base, which was bigger than he thought it’d be. That was when Eric froze to the spot.

“Hey boom boy! Looks like we’ll be bunking together! Who’d have thought we’d be still on the same team after that, right?” The voice was broken in places, like the b’s being dragged on too long, as Valentin headed to dump his stuff in the dorm.

Eric screamed “No!” so loud that even Red base heard it, so they sent scouts to review what was going on at Blue base. All they saw was a Blue curl up into a ball, and from the motions he was making, that he was sobbing away. 

The Reds in years to come would then plant a recording device, which told them everything that had happened to Eric, who was still heartbroken even after all those years at Valhalla.

 

…

 

Valhalla Outpost Investigation Site. Present.

“Excuse me sir, but why the hell are we listening to this dribble? Surely it’s got nothing to do with our actual investigation, right?” Operative London slammed his fist on the console.

He frowned though he remembered the helmet would have not shown his expression. So he shook his head, in a grey ODST helmet that had an orange stripe to it, to show the councillor his frustration to listening to the tale of the sole survivor. Yet what the councillor mentioned next was something of surprise to him.

“Operative London, you are aware of the other incidents similar to that of the crash site, correct?” The councillor rhetorically asked, his face as calm as ever.

“Yeah, I’m aware. Its almost identical to my last mission.” He wasn’t too keen to remember that disaster, thinking how many dead he came across and in such a brutal manor.

“You were with a Recovery Agent at the time, yes?” The councillor asked, again knowing the facts before answering.

London answered it with a nod, though he didn’t like talking with the councillor. Something about him rubbed London the wrong way, like he was being watched from a microscope all the time with him. Plus it was the way he would ask questions while never really answering any questions himself, it got his blood boiling. 

It bugged him so much, as the councillor asked what he thought about that mission and about how this is the first time they found an actual person to detail the events. London couldn’t disagree with why command wanted the information so badly, yet the droning tales of the soldier was grating him.

So he accepted it and decided to grab himself another mug of coffee before resuming the tale that was being told. Though something about the special solider that came was unnerving him. Far more than anything the councillor had mentioned to him or even the simulation trooper.

He heard the tales about him as he saw the Recovery Agent lean against the wall. The guy was freakishly quiet and remaining still, almost easily like one of the completed robot kits he saw once at another simulation trooper site. Though he made the odd movement that reminded him that the guy was still human.

Though it was the tales and rumours that got him on edge, since the Recovery Agent once had an AI but something had gone terribly wrong. He didn’t want to deal with another Recovery Agent, not after what happened with the last one.

He was called in as backup, since the over Recovery Agents hadn’t reported in. He only found the remains of those same said agents. He was used to battle, he had seen the horrors of glassing and plasma scarring and even the Insurrectionists from the outer colonies.

Nothing had prepared him for the savagery he had found there. Worse, his Recovery Agent had fled, turned tail and left him to defend himself. He was grateful that he wasn’t seen by whatever killed the agents. What he found after getting out of cover, gave a whole new meaning to the term ‘blood bath’.

That was when he was reassigned here, as someone who could maybe see a pattern or answer to the gore. London wanted nothing more than to forget the whole nightmarish incidents. He also hated not knowing what had happened or not knowing what could do that much death and destruction on its own.

He shook his head as he resumed going back towards the room with the simulation trooper, who was more than happy to start up his story again.

 

…

 

Valhalla Outpost Red Base. One Week Prior To The Crash.

“Men, and lady, I’ve called you here today to give you an update on our mission here at Valhalla Outpost Number 1.” The Red leader known as Sargent Ramon Farad issued the news while nodding his head in a Mark V helmet.

He stood giving the speech but he was more than happy to relax and wait for his enemy to make the first move. Yet Command as he wondered who actually ran it, had other plans for his Reds. So he took action instead of hitting the bed for an extra five minute nap.

“Sir, if this is about the vending machine, we all know who broke it.” Walter began explaining as they all turned to the soldier with the EOD helmet who was nicknamed Subs.

“You can’t prove that!” Subs immediately protested, turning his back to their leader to face Walter.

“The fact that you’ve defended that so fast shows your guilt, Subs!” Said another solider who was standing at the back, his armour covered in oil stains.

“I swear, all I did was get the one drink. The one drink! How exactly was I the one responsible for it breaking on its own accord?” Sub furiously shouted back, all while taking a straw to one of the ports on his helmet for a sip.

“Dude, things don’t just break.” The mechanic wiped some oil off his visor as he stated those words.

“Have you ever heard of viruses in computers? They just randomly appear and destroy things, so that proves my theory.” Subs slurped the words through his straw.

“You’re an idiot. Viruses only corrupt if you download things you shouldn’t be having in the first place.” Walter wished the others would take the war seriously. “And secondly, a vending machine isn’t a computer!”

“If you two interrupt me again, I’ll umm… make you run around the base with twenty laps.” Ramon started off serious, but couldn’t bring himself to punish either, since he didn’t particularly see either one as being in the wrong.

“Sorry sir.” Subs said it halfheartedly as he finished slurping the drink, while Walter remained disciplined the entire time.

“That’s better, now then troops, Command has informed us that the Blues are likely to get reinforcements today, so we’ll be launching a surprise attack on their base tomorrow.” He now felt more enthusiastic for it, almost tapping his foot with excitement.

“Sir, wouldn’t it make more sense to attack them now, before they get more soldiers?” The mechanic was puzzled by the logic of that battle strategy.

“Normally I’d agree with you, but some of us are still aching from the training op yesterday.” Ramon subtly clutched his back, remembering he wasn’t the young soldier he used to be, though he didn’t have much actual combat experience as he gently rubbed his back.

“Sir, why can’t we ask Command for more supplies?” Walter chose to go with the strategy, since it seemed better than waiting for the Blues to attack.

“Yeah, like say… an airstrike?” Subs added, which made Walter agree with him, one of the few times he’d side with his teammate.

“Dear god man, don’t you know how much paperwork is involved for an airstrike? It’d be far simpler to use what we have on hand against them. We do have the man cannon to propel our troops to victory.” Ramon refuted, making the hand gestures of signing his life away before pointing to the launcher at Red base.

“Sir I refuse to call it that.” Came the voice of the only woman on Red team.

“Is it because you’re not a man little lady?” Ramon asked nicely, though he was thinking it sarcastically since this private to him made it her mission in life to cause issues that didn’t exist.

“No sir, I just find it ridiculous to call it that. Also I’m not a little lady, I’m a soldier just like the others.” She proudly proclaimed while keeping an eye on the hilltop for the slightest chance of seeing Blue armour.

“Yeah she’s hardly little the way she's eats those cakes.” Subs sniggered but Sally Almond turned to him with a knife ready in her hand.

“Care to say that to my face!” She demanded before their sergeant scolded them.

“Now break it up or it’ll be double twenty laps round the base!” He waited for them to answer after she resumed her roll call spot.

“Yes sir.” Sally sulked, she wanted Subs to suffer, whereas Subs regretted opening his mouth without thinking.

“Now we do have some new equipment from Command, so we’ll be testing them in the heart of battle.” Roman resumed before being interrupted again by the mechanic.

“Sir, testing them during a combat mission seems risky. Surely it’d be better to use it once we know what it does. What if one of them is a bomb?” He was still wiping his tools as he stood attention, though he was finding the mission to be more of a nightmare than a cake walk.

“Fairly sure that Command wouldn’t send a bomb amongst the equipment Private. Besides there’s nothing better than field testing during one with live fire being used.” Though he failed to add the safe distance he would be using.

They collectively sighed at their leader’s decision. The Red team split up to either inspect the so called new equipment, or they were either watching the ocean view at the back of their base while the rest were spying on Blue base. Smith had the sniper riffle, zooming in through the scope as Sub leaned in to ask what the Blues were saying.

“Excuse me?” David Smith replied back, wearing a Mark VI helmet but wearing a maroon shade armour with white shoulder pieces.

He still recalled the last time he lowered his guard with sniper riffle. Both of his shoulder pieces were shot at, destroying the paint work. Command had spare parts but no matching colours so he stuck with the white pieces.

“All I asked was what they were talking about?” Subs whispered into his ear, only further exasperating Smith.

“Subs, how exactly supposed was I to hear what they’re discussing about, when all the sniper riffle does is zoom?!” Harshly replying as he spied on the two Blues moving to one another before stopping.

“Well, you shoot with it.” Subs answered cheerfully.

“Damn moron.” Smith grunted, wondering why the hell he was stuck with him today.

“You're the one who said that a sniper rifle only zooms!” Subs gloated like he had passed a test.

“What the fuck did I do in life to deserve being stuck here?!” He now openly said out loud rather than just thinking it.

“Maybe it was…” Subs was about to recall the story he heard about from boot camp.

“That was rhetorical you movie nerd!” Smith finally snapped and did the one thing he knew that would surely piss Subs off.

“That’s geek, you asshole! Also fairly sure that was facetious, not rhetorical!” Subs triumphantly exclaimed, not allowing him to insult his hobby.

“I bet the blues don’t have to deal with this shit.” Smith sighed as he was working on a plan B to get rid of Subs.

Meanwhile at the other end of the canyon was the two Blues known as Arron Salt and Bartholomew Teach who were deep in discussion, as they also spied on their enemies through the scope of their pistols.

“What do you think they’re planning?” Salt asked as he changed to a battle riffle with a better scope.

“Not sure, they seem to be using some form of hand signals to one another.” Bartholomew kept notes of the various signals the Reds were making, all he needed was more to eventually crack their code.

“All I see are cursing fingers, and they seem to be pointing to the waterfall. Maybe they’re planing to poison our water again.” Salt speculated as he saw the Red soldiers having what looked like to him a finger flipping contest. 

“Yeah, that was funny when they drank the poison first to test it. Surprised that they haven’t gotten themselves killed yet. Though I suspect it’s some sort of false sense of security they’re creating, for some dastardly plot of theirs.” Teach zoomed in on the Reds, who were now throwing rocks at one another like children.

“Trust me Teach, they’re just idiots who can actually shoot well. I doubt between the lot of them that they have the brain cell power to mount an actual attack.” Salt laughed before he heard the grinding of wheels approach them.

Alex Jones stepped out of the warthog vehicle, slightly sighing at the shamble of a team she was leading. While she was grateful that she wasn’t sent to Sidewinder all those years ago, she still wondered why Command sent her to this backwater canyon of the galaxy. She ordered her troops to sit rep what they had found on the Blues.

She was about to actually thank them when they heard crashing, followed by screaming from their base. Alex sighed as she turned to see Valentin run out of the base, shielding himself with a frying pan from other kitchen appliances being thrown at him. Eric was shouting up till she used the butt of her gun at the back of his head.

She listened to Valentin’s fictional tale till she caught his lie and exposed it. She almost laughed as he clammed up once exposed to the truth. Alex then sent him to the brig, much to his back chatter. 

Once Eric came to, he recounted his version of events. While it was believable that Valentin would be stupid enough to try burning the base down by throwing oil onto an open flame, missing the pan completely, she had to punish Eric for destroying what was salvageable of the kitchen by Valentin. Eric was more cooperative but his mood swings when Valentin was the problem’s cause, made him questionable for any op that required him too.

Alex sat down wondering why the hell Command had paired her with such a dysfunctional team. She saw the remaining team take shifts through the night, making sure the Reds didn’t surprise them. She did pray that the new recruits she’d be getting would be far better than the last two she got.

 

…

 

Valhalla Crash Site. Present.

The Recovery Agent was inspecting the wreck that was once a pelican drop-ship, like thousands he had seen before. Yet he felt that he was missing something as he looked through the manifest of what should be there and what the various soldiers found amongst the carnage.

There were pieces of the vessel scattered all across the canyon, even several smaller pieces that were wedged into the tower that was once Red base. He wandered into Red base, seeing the soldiers remove items that were meant to be a barricade. Then he saw the scratchings.

They were cut deep into the solid metal wall. The blade was curved he suspected, judging from the various marks that made a phrase, something that had cropped up at other incidents. ‘WE ARE THE META!’

He saw where the bodies once lay, where they had died from killing one another, locked in the cage that was their own base. There were now white markings on the ground, as the agent tried gauging how it went out, which simulation trooper had died first and why they had to die.

“Sir? Recovery One?” Came the question from behind him. “Agent Washington?” One of the agents asked for him as he turned to the voice. “Sir, we need you to go over the documents we’ve recovered. Control wants to cross-reference anything that could be linked to you’re umm… experience.”

Agent Washington headed straight there, not battering an eyelid under his helmet as he passed the agent. The agent however was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. He had heard the story about Washington, most had heard yarns about what the Freelancers had done over the years, especially for the sake of the war against the aliens.

Yet he feared Washington with every breath he took near him. For he had read the file he shouldn’t have purely by accident, a wrongly sent file by a simple spelling mistake. The file detailed the exact end result of an AI destroying itself whilst still inside the operating soldier. 

The UNSC had done numerous tests, many he had witnessed in the battle, where AI’s had become strained from constant battles and strategies. He knew that the more an AI processed the more erratic they got, the closer to rampancy and for some, complete destruction. AI’s thought like people, so he long speculated that they were flawed, no matter how fast they processed schematics or solutions.

He saw the body count, the photos showing the carnage Washington or rather the AI he was paired with had caused, as Washington had fought back with the self damaging AI. Washington had recovered, but according to the report, his personality had changed. Gone was the nicest of the special soldiers and something else, something colder was in his place.

He shook it from his mind, the last thing he wanted was Control or Command knowing he knew all that. He looked around Red base before being jumpy at the slightest noise. All he wanted was the mission to be over and back to his regular duty. He just hoped whatever caused the mess and death, Washington could protect them from it, even in his current state of mind.

Washington picked up the documents, flicking through the pages, seeing the same outcome on every page. The last folder was the one he didn’t want to read, it was a particularly painful memory. South as he nicknamed her, had left him for dead after taking Delta and abandoning the project.

After sitting a short while, he finally opened it. The memories of pain, failure and betrayal flooded back like waves of the tide, unrelenting with each memory in turn. Then he was remembering the operating table, he tried forcing it out but still the images played.

He recalled the pain, the surge in his brain, the darkness that surrounded him. Then he was greeted by both the Director and the Councillor. Wash had no knowledge that any time had passed since the implantation of his AI. So they asked questions, which Wash couldn’t answer.

After a while the men disagreed with showing him what happened. Wash would regret asking what he had done, as they took him to the hanger. He looked around him wondering what it was, till the penny dropped and his life was forever changed.

He was looking at dozens and dozens of body bags. The hanger was filled with them, some on operating beds and the rest were on the floor. He then saw the bullet holes and grenade damage, the damage caused by extensive carnage of almost savagery he thought. 

There was one medic there, checking the last body before zipping up the deceased’s bag. The medic turned and screamed, clawing at the controls and door to escape. Wash assured him he was fine, but it was the words that were buried in his mind, those high pitch screams that still sickened him to this day. It was him that the medic was afraid of.

Then the Councillor began telling him the truth, that Epsilon had broken down, gone rampant and tried self deletion. Only it was in Wash’s mind when it happened. The Director even commented on Wash’s determination to survive against Epsilon was impressive, despite the collateral damage. Then he was told about why the ‘Mother Of Invention’ spaceship had crash landed. Maine was declared killed in action, which was only the tip of the horrid revelations he got after waking.

Wash took off his helmet, heaving up vomit from the realisation of what happened. He couldn’t shake the revulsion or shock, nor the scream of the medic’s pleas of what he had done. The Councillor assured him he was only doing what he had to be done to break Epsilon’s hold on him.

It didn’t change the fact he had murdered innocents, or that he had no recollection of even doing it or of Epsilon in his mind. All he recalled was the phrase ‘memory is the key’ followed with the headache and darkness. Wash remembered that memory crystal clear even as he dropped the file back in the pile. He had changed that day, as had Project Freelancer in the days he was recuperating. 

So many had died or betrayed them, and he wasn’t going to rest till he at least attempted to make things right. Though he sat there now wondering what it was he could do to stop the new nightmare. So he went through the next pile of reports, trying to connect dots and see anything different that could be a lead.

 

…

 

Valhalla. The Past.

Eric was depressed, he had long since forgotten a time when he wasn’t wearing blue armour and worse as he contemplated on the thought. ‘I’ve been here several years with that bastard and I’m no closer to getting home or transferred.’ It irritated him to the core that Valentin was paired up with him on most missions.

He sat on his bunk, placing the helmet back on his head after cleaning it. Then he looked at the bunk across from him and he slammed his fist on the wall. Valentin had taken all the dessert again, dumping the bowls and half eaten ice cream tubs under the bed. Only it was giving off odour lines that made him ill with revulsion.

In the early days, he’d have complained and tried informing his superiors, thinking it’d work like a synch. Only Valentin had either denied it, or worse covered his track to make it look like the others had done the terrible neglect. Valentin didn’t get away with it, his lies were that ridiculous and the evidence too strong.

Yet to Eric’s horror, Valentin was never really punished. He somehow managed to get off lightly for the multiple incidents he created. Worse, Eric now found himself accepting Valentin’s actions as normal, since he no longer went out of his way to try getting him punished.

He was sulking that much, he hadn’t noticed Teach as he came by. Eric was glad that at least one other soldier shared his distaste of the way Valentin treated the base and team. Teach often claimed that Valentin was a far worse threat than any Red. Which only made Eric laugh as they headed to check their supplies.

Teach was always busy Eric thought, often wondering what job he did alone and so often. Valentin nearly dropped the box of rifle rounds on their head hadn’t Teach caught it from a quick glance he made. Teach then had to drag Eric away before starting another fight, no matter how justified he thought Eric was.

“Let me at that back stabbing son of a…” Eric ranted as he squirmed.

“Easy, I know he deserves everything coming to him, but you're going to have to let it slide.” Teach reasoned with him, trying his best to calm Eric down. “As big an asshole as he is, he’s on our team so we can’t go around killing our own. No matter how much we really want to.”

Eric took several deep breaths, taking several steps away to vent the remaining anger in him. Thankfully Valentin had already gone when they returned to complete their checks. Though Eric was jumpy at every slight noise, and Teach chuckled at Eric’s frantic nervous jumps.

Alex groaned, dreading that the coffee maker was bust again. She hated filling in the request form for parts. So she had Teach scavenge for parts, as a means to repair it rather than send another form that would take a month to get a response.

‘Which ironically didn’t always lead to a yes.’ She thought, and when she did get the answer she hoped for, it was still another week before it got to the base. Teach had always been a great hand around the base. She even thought he’d be transferred and promoted one day, yet he always said he was where he was needed.

She also thought he was too eager and cheery somedays but it was better than to deal with the antics of her other troops, who would rather slit the others throat than aid their own team. Alex than got the notification on her heads up display, her hud flashed the alert that she knew too well. Her headaches were about to multiply as the drop-ship came into view.

The pelican circled as it descended and the trooper got out.

At the Red base, they were concluding the final details of their plan to ambush the Blues. There was a mix of excitement and dread, with some thinking they’d finally win and some knowing too well how their previous attempts ended for them. Yet the hands of time marched like they did forward.

They saw the pelican circle in the air as it started its slow landing near the Blue base. All the while the Blues talked, unaware of the sniper scope as it zoomed in on their movements. Sally Almond was fuming with frustration, slowly inching her finger to the trigger.

She stopped as she remembered what her leader discussed to her. She had to follow his rules but she had scolded him for the viewpoint he had. He had given her pepper spray, which boiled her blood to exploding point. She even stormed out of that meeting, throwing the spray right back at him.

She told herself she was the best soldier on the team, even survived her previous outpost as they were overrun by Blue soldiers. She took the helmet off after hiding back behind the rock formation, surveying the scratches on her Recon helmet. Sally never did get the answer if it really was luck or skill that saved her that day.

She could’ve had it replaced anytime since she got to Valhalla, but she remembered how the team stood their ground till the Blues were no more. She missed her old team, they didn’t belittle her for being female, she thought. It was bad enough being the only girl on her new team, but the fact they kept insisting she had to have someone with her and the spray only exasperated her further.

Sally returned the helmet to her head, the display already showing the targets on the move with what looked like a new recruit or two. She could never tell the Blues apart without their voices, as it was just bobble heads in the sniper rifle’s scope to her. So she couldn’t begin to understand what they were planning, as Paul Mechenzie came to check where she disappeared to.

“You know the boss doesn’t want you out here on your own.” Paul stated, catching up to her and still wiping off the oil stains on his maroon armour.

“You know I’m perfectly capable of fighting the Blues and can still put my foot up your ass for pissing me off with time to spare.” She remarked as she kept her eye on the enemy team.

“You know, behind that nice piece of armour, you can be really rude and such a sour person.” Paul teased back to Sally.

“Ever the nerd, I see.” Sally retorted.

“At least I take pride of being on this team.” Paul mentioned coldly, thinking how callous Sally could get.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sally spun to him, fiercely asking him.

“Just that, the boss was only looking out for you. We are a team after all.” Paul bluntly answered.

“I don’t need help, I can handle things fine on my own.” She boldly stated, trying her hardest not to shout and reveal her location.

“Look, he just… wants his team safe. He’s lazy from time to time, but he only wants us to be safe after all.” Paul pondered on the right choice of words to get his point across.

“Well, I find it patronising.” Sally had the rifle unintentionally aimed at Paul’s head, gritting the words through her teeth.

“You find most things patronising, so chill a little.” Paul pushed the rifle away as Sally sighed.

“We’re soldiers and our enemy is just a few clicks away!” She pointed towards the enemy base.

“And what good is biting off the heads of your fellow Reds?” He asked as Sally stopped watching the Blue. “Look, the others and the boss care for you…” He then heard her reload the rifle, nervous to clarify what he meant. “…and not in the same way some men treat others just to get into bed with them.”

“Smooth. Now kindly explain why I have the mechanic as the bodyguard.” She sarcastically added, seeing the mechanic still trying to wipe off the greasy substance on his armour.

He even took off the Hayabusa helmet to clean the stain that was smudged on his visor. He explained that the others were preparing for the big attack, so she was only more puzzled that the key person who could change the outcome was stuck with her on spy duty. She listened to his explanation, which she could relate to.

‘Everyone needs a break from their missions and chores,’ she soon grasped that fact as she saw he was taking a break from the maintenance on the warthog. She then gave a hand to clean the helmet for him, as she wondered what he was really like. In the time she had know the Reds, she had only heard Paul talk a few times, which was vehicle lingo to her.

So the two waited at the top of the hill, taking turns to check on their enemies while still trying to get the grease and muck off Paul’s armour. Sally was about to ask about his past, when a radio call came through on their helmets. Paul sighed as his nickname came into the conversation.

“Roger. Yes, this is Mech, what’s the problem? Over.” He dreaded to ask but he wanted to know what they were calling about.

“Roger, Mech. The warthog had a slight… malfunction. Over.” The voice of David Smith was clear even as he paused.

“What?! What did they do this time?” Mech groaned through teeth as he awaited to know what damage had been caused.

“It kinda… exploded?” David slowly spoke, already bracing himself for the bombardment of rage he knew was coming

“EXPLODED?! I leave you guys for one bloody hour! One! Why is it so hard for you monkeys to leave things alone?!” Mech lost all manner of control, cursing and ignoring David’s replies.

Paul started heading back to base, with Sally following him, not wanting to miss the fireworks of his current enraged state. David looked around at the others, already regretting the call as they swooped in on him like vultures. Though he didn’t have long to wait before Paul chewed out each of the Red’s pestering David, with Sally enjoying every second of the mechanic’s revenge.

Blue Team’s Teach stood watch as he spied on the maroon mechanic boot one of the Reds, seeing them frantically grabbing every tool. He saw the wreck of the jeep, as the enemy team hurried to start fixing it. He would've laughed at their attempts but saw the Red sniper, so he ducked back to his cover.

“So… are we attacking the dirty Reds?” The first new recruit asked.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to get myself a trophy off the battlefield.” The second recruit hysterically pondered on, eyeing up the various weapons the Red’s carried.

“Easy there you two, lets not get too ahead of ourselves.” Teach instructed, as they started the slow walk back to their base. “I admire that spirit you both share, but it’s still your first day here. Plus we’re likely to be facing those scoundrels soon. So we need to prepare you both as best as we can.”

So the two recruits reintroduced themselves to Teach. The first was in teal armour with a Mark V helmet, called Warren Sharp. The second was Eric Steel, who wore a cobalt amour with a matching Mark V helmet. Teach smirked at how similar the two acted and sounded, almost like twins he thought if it wasn't for themselves stating they were not.

“How are the recruits, Teach?” Alex Jones came over to inspect the progress of her newest members.

“Actually doing well boss. They’re very eager, if a tad unorthodox.” Teach informed her, as the recruits were awestruck by the scorpion tank.

“Well, it is refreshing to hear that after our last recruits.” She turned to see Johnson still ranting and raving as he came out of the tank, making sure it was running smoothly.

“To be fair, that Valentin is a troublemaker. No wonder Johnson gets wound-up so much.” He gave a weak laugh, seeing Johnson explain the tank as he continued to maintain it.

“As annoying and self-harming as he is, he’s still one of my Blues. So we have to endure with him.” She remarked before quickly adding. “Though I really do think he’ll get himself killed if he pesters…”

Alex stopped as Eric unleashed a hellish scream of curse words, being stopped by Teach. Valentin had done something inside the tank, and as Eric hoisted himself out, Alex groaned at the sight before her. Eric’s armour was caked in what Alex hoped wasn’t what came to her mind first. 

She groaned at not having enough coffee, dreading the state of the inside of the tank, wondering if it matched the brownish stain on Eric’s armour. Teach had asked the recruits to hose down Eric’s suit, while he went to deal with Valentin. She decided to put in a request for whatever Teach wanted as a reward for handling the situation.

Alex then pondered on getting a request for Eric, she knew he could be a hassle to handle at times, but considering how much Valentin caused him shit, she decide it was only fair. She then nearly burst out laughing at the pun she told herself, quickly remembering the condition the vehicle was in. She wondered if she could transfer him to another squad, before dreading the likely reality that none of the requests would be accepted.

Meanwhile Ramon at Red Base watched in horror as the smoke rose in the air, the cloud inching away with the wind’s gust. He stepped back as Mech approached the warthog, it lying in multiple sized scrap chunks. He decided to keep his comm for emergencies only, guessing at what Mech was saying as he saw the troublemakers scatter.

Each one was fleeing from Mech throwing tools, though he needn’t have bothered, as they collided with one another instead. After multiple offensive finger terms, the Reds quickly got on their knees, burying their faces in the mud as they grovelled for Mech to forgive them. Ramon had seen this reckless side before, so he chose to review his battle strategy over continuing to see the pleas of his soldiers.

He mentally planned scenarios, though they were all wishful thinking as he dreaded what tomorrow would bring. He then ordered everyone to get some sleep, though he had to beg Sally to come in, who was enjoying the spectacle of Mech belittling the others a little too much. Ramon got Paul to be the sentry for the first watch, before catching some rest, despite the unease that surged through him.

 

…

 

The Present. Unknown Location. The Present.

Operatives Berlin & Paris were annoyed, dealing with the clean up of the recent attacks wasn’t what they signed up for. Though they both knew it was their role now, given that the operatives were all once freelancer washouts at some point or another. Whereas Paris took pride in still being part of the project, Berlin was not.

He had known that if it wasn’t for that unforeseen incident, he would've made it. He would be given a state name and part of the project’s elite team. It effected him worse these days, with the freelancers he recovered with the recovery teams. 

Paris however was thrilled to be part of the action again, and not parking her rear at a desk constantly like the last few months. Though seeing those who ranked above her now on their way to be buried six feet under her, did scare her. She believed it was one of the aliens, a splinter cell that sought revenge since they still saw humans as insects.

Berlin wiped the blood off his armour, not that anyone could tell from the red stripes of his ODST helmet or armour that were grey but scratched all over. He believed it was something else, since he saw the method of the kills. They were clearly not alien, as he had fought against them before being part of Project Freelancer.

Paris’ armour was a matching grey ODST full armour but her’s had blue stripes and had barely any blemishes or markings on it. She missed the old days of when they were all still fighting for a spot as agents. All three of them she thought, as she moved the last body. 

Her mind was still thinking of their relocated teammate as Berlin call signed her to investigate something. It was another marking, like the other recovery teams found at each site so far. It was the words again, the calling card of ‘The Meta’. The carnage alone was enough to identify its handiwork, but the message was concrete proof it was here.

They both dreaded whatever it was, for it showed no compassion or mercy, seeing the footprints that walked away leaving a faint trail in blood. It was haunting to see the number of dead as they prepared to escort the bodies back to their base. They then got a call about another incident, one that their former teammate was currently investigating. 

It almost warmed them up, knowing he was still ok, and that their paths would cross again. Though Paris could sense the hesitation in Berlin, and saw the clenching fist fidget. She wished those two had parted on better terms but she believed men were tedious to deal with let alone comprehend their actions.

They then departed to the base, feeling unease with the deceased laying there as they rolled on the road back. Something about the dead still kept Paris on edge but Berlin was itching to settle his disagreement with London. ‘Things would be different now’ he thought as the carnage left them both behind like the dust of the wheels.

 

…

 

Project Freelancer Base: Many Years Ago.

The Director watched as the tentacles moved with such precision, the device it held lit up as the alien headed back to its containment. The creature whirled and whistled as it was taken away, The Director was too awed to notice, clutching the device as the hologram began to flicker to life. The display showed a small figure, two colours were pulsing as the figure looked around the room.

“Hello?” The blue and black figure asked, still looking around where it stood.

“Hello. Do you know your name?” The Director asked. 

“I think I do, I believe its Al… No, it’s Texas… Wait. I’m… confused.” The figure asked looking into The Director’s gaze.

“That’s ok, you were just born. So there will be… slight inconsistencies.” The Councillor added, finally stepping into the light.

“Today is my birthday?” The figure asked, turning to see the Councillor, pondering why he looked familiar.

“It is. So we are going to give you a name.” The Director answered, though he was more to the point than the Councillor’s way of talking, that was what the figure thought as the Director continued talking to him. “You will be called ‘Beta.’”

“Beta?” Beta said, trying out his name for the first time. 

Something inside him was telling him that was wrong in some way, though he had nothing to go on for backing up his instinct. So he repeated saying his name, yet another name began to fill his memory, one he struggled to pronounce. He was so focused on it that he hadn’t heard the conversation around him.

“Director, I think it unwise to accelerate the schedule for more AI fragments. We still need to run tests on…” The Councillor pleaded but the Director soon stopped him.

“I respect your concern Councillor, but we are not in a situation to have the luxury of time or your tests. Begin preparation while I brief Beta. That will be all then.” The Director’s words felt like ice, and if Beta could shudder from a chill, he would've as the Councillor left the room.

The Director then explained about Project Freelancer, about his agents and then came the part that got Beta’s interest, the aliens. As the man before him talked about the planet’s lost, the glassing of worlds, Beta pulled through the spaceship’s database for anything relevant to the words being spoken. He pulled through various files, asking the odd question before stopping at a file.

It puzzled him, as he hesitantly waited to activate it. A mere video recording with barely any memory storage, but it was the name of the file that made him motionless. Beta now knew the name in his memory as he spoke it out without realising it.

“Alison.”

“Excuse me Beta?” The Director’s manor was sharp, sudden to Beta as the Director waited.

“The name on the video file, sir, this one.” Beta responded, showing it while watching the Director clench his fist.

“That file is restricted Beta! You must never open restricted files!” The Director snappily remarked as Beta apologised and closed it. “We are at war Beta, where certain files are for certain eyes only. It is part of a protocol, the Cole Protocol. An AI is only needed to know what is relevant at the time, otherwise it becomes a liability or worse, a target for our enemies.”

Beta quickly surmised it was a fail safe to prevent the extraterrestrials or Covenant as they were called from gaining knowledge about humanity. Yet it was the man’s next words that scared him more.

“Our enemies are not just the green blooded kind. No, our enemies are also the ones within. The humans who seek to gain from the death of their own worlds, their own species!” The Director’s anger filled the room as Beta processed the rampancy of humans.

“Sir, I fail to see how betrayal is a logical option for them.” Beta tried rationalising it over in his mind to process, though it eluded him.

“Well… Beta, humans are not run by probabilities or logic. They are run by greed, instinct, power and the worst of all, memories. That last one, blinds even the best of us.” The Director seemed different, almost upset Beta suspected as the man than continued with various protocols Beta needed to know.

Though that wasn’t what Beta wanted to understand. He wanted to understand the significance of the name, why it agitated the Director so much and why the files around a certain agent was missing. He then processed the name of that agent, which was Texas, the second name he said.

That bothered him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch, which he found funny given he was artificial so it shouldn’t affect him the same as a human. He guessed he was closer to a human than AI since he was called a fragment. Then that made him pause with confusion.

In all the files he had read, since AI’s were capable to process things faster than humans could, no where did it use the term ‘fragments’. It listed smart AI’s who lived for seven years & dumb AI’s who weren’t actually dumb but did basic tasks like facility checks or some maintained the super cities to keep operational. Yet there was no record of fragment AI’s anywhere.

It stressed him as he kept searching, completely unaware of the Councillor keeping a log of everything he had searched for. Price was concerned with the pace of his investigating, not including the subject he was looking up. He planned to go over with it with the Director, though he was more concerned with the potential problems that could occur.

Beta was an achievement of their handwork against the resistance cell, all the handwork of mentally helping their agents was finally ready for the final part of their plan. Yet he couldn't help the nagging vibe he got about Beta’s recent actions. He just hoped that Beta wasn’t malfunctioning or suffering rampancy, especially since AI’s like Alpha were prone to deteriorate drastically after seven years of service.

Though he did have reports of AI’s suffering from over processing, that reduced their lifespan and thus their overall efficiency. So he wanted to know the exact nature and status of Beta before creating more fragments and then assigning the fragments to the selected agents. Their safety, both agents and the fragments, were his first priority, regardless of the Director’s plans. 

 

…

 

Valhalla. The Present.

Operative London looked at the files, drinking the third cup of coffee before having his helmet back on his head. There was something bothering him about this, something that deeply bugged him. There was something about the whole business that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Then the mug slipped from his fingers, shattering to dozens of pieces as he stared at the display monitor. He double checked the screen, then a third before taking a seat from the facts. It gnawed away at him, trying to disprove the glaring error he saw.

The report listed the dead of both Reds and Blues, but there was a glaring mistake, three in fact. The first: the reports said no female bodies were recovered, yet Walter clearly stated there was ladies on each side. The second: was the number of soldiers. Typically there was four to six for each team, yet there was two dozen in total minus Walter.

Operative London was unnerved by this, since Walter specifically stated the number on each team ben in single digits. So either he was lying in his tale of events or Command was faking the numbers. Yet it was the third mistake that sent chills down his spine. The morgue report, the only one he got clearance to read, since the other reports were still being made. The report stated the time of death as being before the crash, before the mysterious actions each team did to one another.

It was the report on the death of Private Valentin Strike. He was murdered before the pelican had crash landed. Which led London to the only action that would either correct the inconsistencies or destroy the faith he had in Command forever. He went to see the bodies.

He checked all of them, the Reds and Blues. Once enemies that fought to kill that now laid together as equals in death. Not one was them. Only Walter and Valentin were in truth the actual members of their respective teams.

So London looked around him, the bodies that surrounded him, that were no meant to be there. He had one question that he now dreaded to ask but knew if he didn't get an answer, it would haunt him every waking moment till he too laid on his death bed.

‘What the fuck happened here?!’ He asked himself, not noticing the monitor have a moment of static like blur.

 

To Be Continued…

[I hoped you all enjoyed this chapter, I plan to release each instalment monthly, so see you next month with chapter 2 and would like to thank the artist for their lovely artwork which can be found on tumblr with the tag #RvB Big Bang.]


	2. The Damned.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reds and Blues begin their plans to launch their attacks, while the Operatives try to unravel the mystery of what happened at Outpost 17B. Meanwhile Beta finally speaks out, but will it be worth the risk?

Present Day. Outpost Valhalla.

Operative London checked the files, trying not to show the discord in his body, secretly praying that there was a mistake or misread it. When it yielded the same result though he flinched, the data clearly stating the very thing that was impossible. He rechecked it and triple checked it, already knowing what was in the electronic records and on the written papers didn’t add up with what was in front of him.

Only one body was that of those posted at the base, only one out of the dozens dead that filled the room. To say the contradicting facts unnerved Operative London was an understatement. He could taste the cold air on the tip of his tongue, that was supplied via his helmet, as he searched past the chemically cleaned surfaces in the makeshift morgue.

The deathly stillness nearly consumed him, as it had done to the various bodies in the room. Even with their eyes shut, and the few still in armour and helmets, gave unrelenting glances towards him as he inspected the names. The body of Valentin Strike was the only body that was there that matched the records, despite all the other dead bodies he had examined. 

He couldn’t understand it, not one bit of it, as he stepped back to take it all in. ‘What could Command be covering up, with so many dead and falsified records?’ he asked himself as he saw the monitor flicker. The monitor screen danced white and black with static blurs, the screeching growing louder as London attempted to check what was causing the static and flickering.

Then a shockwave sent him backwards, blasting him against the wall and dropping his rifle to the ground. As London shook off the nausea, he heard the familiar beeping of his shield slowly returning to full strength. Though he did freeze at the sight on the screen, as a tiny figure moved and then crawled out of the damaged computer.

“Oh hell that sucked. Why do these things keep crashing on me? All I did was frigging tap it! They sure as heck don’t make these tins of scrape work like they used to, piece of shit!” The blue and black figure kicked the fried computer with its holographic foot. 

The figure sulked and moved to the device that was on the table, the strange curved metallic orb that Operative London only now noticed. ‘How did I miss that? And what exactly is this thing?’ London thought as he slowly picked up his rifle, still in a trance of the figure talking away loudly to itself.

“… I mean I know the project had to cut back and all, but I’ve had to hold up here for so many years, not making any damn noise, not being seen or leave any damn trace of my presence! And to top it off, I finally get a fucking break to leave this god for sake dirt hole and those idiots sent me back!” The figure was about to slam its fist on the device but held it back, telling itself to calm down and acted like it was inhaling and exhaling.

London guessed it was an A.I., as he saw it effortlessly interact with the device and what was left running of the monitors and the computer it trashed. He was just unsure of it’s intentions as he listened to it continue it’s ranting, while he steadied his rifle for any hostile action.

“Why is it my fault if they interfered with MY enhancement! After all, if that idiot had just done as I said and not the opposite of it, then none them would’ve…” The figure stormily raged on till he saw a shadow and stopped mid sentence.

The hologram display fluttered, almost like spikes distorting his smooth appearance at the realisation that a person was in the room. Questions raced in his head, like how did he not detect someone in the room, as he was too shocked to move. Likewise, London was equally stunned and couldn’t decide whether to make the first move or speak or to even stay still.

“Uh, hello?… are you… Walter?” The figure asked nervously after a long pause of indecision.

“Walter?” London asked back, wondering why the name was fresh in his mind, as it came to him. “Walter Hendereson?” He confusingly added, as the A.I. burst to life and rushed up to him, causing London to step back in surprise.

“Oh thank god, I thought you might have ended up somewhere across the galaxy. You must have just got hit by the blast wave after it was used. Just to point out, it would've been smoother if those idiots hadn’t fought over it, or freaked out when I tried explaining to them the process.” The figure changed his tune, more jolly as he raced about at speed, with London lost in his explanations.

“Who are you, exactly?” London finally asked, trying to catch up with the figure’s fast conversation.

“Oh shit, should’ve seen this coming.” The figure slowed down to speak so that London could catch his words clearly. “Well buddy, long story short, you must’ve got your head banged pretty bad back there. So on the plus side, if Command had picked you up, you’d be fine since… well you wouldn’t be able to remember what happened. Sadly and annoyingly, I’m going to have to retell the story and introductions again.” The figure sulked slightly at the notion of going through it again, since A.I.s processed it much faster than human, resulting in things being easily repetitive if they had to explain it multiple times. “All right, from the top then, my name is Be…”

“Look, you’ve got me confused with somebody else. I’m not Walter. I’m Operative London. One of the recovery teams for…” London attempted to set the record straight to the A.I., though he sensed something wrong in the A.I.’s movements.

“Excuse me, an Operative?!” The figure demanded as he slowly realised that the soldier worked for Project Freelancer. “No, NO!” He screamed as the horrible ideas sunk in and the fear started to override his rational side. “He sent you didn’t he!”

“He? Who’s he?” London nervously asked, trying to get the figure to relax.

“No! The Director won’t be getting me! Not now and sure as fuck not after all this!” The A.I. zipped around in a frenzy, the colours pulsing and his voice growing louder with fear.

“Now hold on just a second! What’s The Director got to do with you and…” London suddenly stopped talking, lowering his weapon at the sound of footsteps, followed by metal creaking noises from the door.

“NO!” The figure screamed as the door thudded and growling came from the other side of the door. “He’s back! He’s not getting me either!” The A.I. primed the device that began to pulse faster and faster with energy and light.

“What the hell?!” London mumbled as he banging continued. Then he saw a fist break the door, it’s white armour so similar to his own suit as it clawed at him and the hologram. “Son of a bitch!” He called out, as he saw it flail around through the hole.

“Dammit!” The figure cursed as the device failed to work, and nearly kicked it out of frustration when an idea popped into its code.

‘Ah nuts,’ it thought as the only escape option became clear to him. He couldn’t get Walter like he promised but the Operative would surely be useful, even if he’d be just spare parts for the others’ armour. 

“OK, fine, you don’t want to die either… so truce. Grab the glowing device and press it when I say, or this will be our tomb!” It ordered London, who agreed on the spot since the thing was peeling the door now like an onion, stripping away the layers piece by piece.

“How is this going to stop that?” London demanded, having one finger ready on the trigger of his rifle.

“It’s not. This is our ride out of here. Trust me, it works. Just on my mark remember.” The figure explicitly instructed. 

London nodded as he saw the curved blade now strike at the pulled back metal. The thing turned the blade around and London knew the weapon, sending chills through him. It was one of the alien grenade rifles he had often fought against, from the ape like invaders who burnt worlds, now pointed at his head. 

“NOW!!” The A.I. screamed as he hitched a ride in London’s neural implant as he pressed the device. 

Both of them were engulfed in a bright light and at a moments notice, a popping sound followed by a louder bang filled London’s ears. He was almost blinded by the light, but as he blinked, was confronted by darkness. The white armoured fist pounded the now empty room and screeched loudly, before disappearing as fast as it came.

The room was now barren and no-one was none the wiser of the exact sequence of events that took place in the room.

 

…

 

Many Years Earlier. Project Freelancer. Mother Of Invention.

“Er, Hello?” Beta asked as he heard the door open. 

For him it felt like ages before the familiar voice finally spoke. Beta was fully comprehensive that all A.I.’s perceived time vastly different to their human counterparts, though it did not give him comfort as he responded back to the human in what he joked was ‘real time’. For Beta it was the equivalent to watching paint dry as he recalled the exact way the interview had gone.

He had replayed the scene a dozen times over in his mind, which was beyond annoying for him as it meant he recalled it far more than any human or living organism could comprehend. He had displeased the Director again, over what he still hadn’t fathomed, even with the extra time to process. Beta strained to work out why The Director was so disappointed, as he turned to The Councillor who began to talk.

“Good morning Beta, how are you feeling today?” His words were monotone instead of actually sounding like he cared.

“Good sir, just wanted to ask about the thing we talked about.” Beta was hoping that today was the day it’d happen, as The Councillor sat down to speak with him.

“We’ve already discussed that matter Beta. The Director and the project have files that are highly classified, especially with the protocols in place should data fall into extraterrestrial hands.” He began to explain as he saw Beta shake his holographic arms to tell The Councillor he was mistaken.

“Actually sir, it was about the other matter we discussed.” Beta’s colours pulsed just a tad faster with anticipation of the answer he hoped to hear.

“The other matter Beta?” The Councillor asked, almost shocked at this sudden enquiry by the A.I. fragment.

“You know, the Project, why I’m here. I want to know which agent I’ll be paired up with.” Beta finally came out and said it, not hiding his excitement or nervousness.

He had longed for the moment, which had been ages now since he first met The Director and The Councillor. Since his birth, he had been in this room except for the odd time he got to go in the system. Yet he was only granted access to a very minute portion of the ‘Mother Of Invention’ ’s systems, which still made him frustrated as he saw other A.I.s interact and get paired.

“Beta, we have discussed this. The Director and I still think you’re not ready for that step of the project.” The Councillor paused before speaking, knowing that if The Director heard about this, then it’d cause problems.

“But Councillor, I’m more than ready. I’ve passed every examination and scored the highest result on the tests. I have run the simulations far better than Sigma, or Theta or even Delta!” His voice slowly rose in irritation. 

“Beta, how did you access that information?” The Councillor asked, with a curious look.

Beta froze, only just realising what he had said, scrambling to come up with an explanation that was plausible. For being an A.I. he was still based off a human, The Councillor thought, seeing Beta squirming away with gestures and observed notions of overhearing others mention the project. He knew right away that Beta had outsmarted the security systems, he just hadn’t worked out how he had accomplished it.

“Beta, I’m not mad; in fact I’m impressed.” The Councillor added, seeing Beta suddenly cease talking, deciding to press information out of him. “You truly are something special. To get pass our security without a trace of your presence. Would you like to tell me about it?”

“You’re not mad?” Beta asked. He quickly elaborated into explaining how he tricked the system to accept his clearance codes as other codes through processing the odds of what different codes he needed. 

The Councillor listened, carefully taking note of how Beta left backdoors in the systems so that he could go when he wanted, as he made sure to mentally write it down. He knew that The Director was watching them, seeing the camera move and the data-pad he carried lit up. He knew that he only had a short time before his window closed.

“Well, Beta, I’m afraid our time is up. It has been very… educational.” Was all Aiden Price said as he left the room, almost sad about what was going to happen.

As Beta saw the door close behind The Councillor, he knew in that instant something was wrong. He tried access the panels in the room, only they denied him entry as he darted his hologram around the room. He made a last ditch attempt to reach the door, only just missing his chance as it slammed shut in his face as the display monitor came to life.

“Hello Beta. Is there something you’d like to discuss with me?” Came The Director’s voice, though it was far from caring in the tone he gave.

“Ok, yes… I did sneak into the system & I did check the records of the other A.I.’s, but sir…” Beta pleaded as he saw the scowl worsen on the monitor, the discontent clear as Beta saw the lips move.

“I instructed you Beta. Explicitly!” The Director now shouted back, no longer holding back the rage in his voice. “You were instructed not to interact with systems outside that room!” He slammed his fist on the console display. 

“But Director… I… I was only…” Beta tried reasoning with him but to no avail.

He did manage to say what files he had where in fact weeks old, to make his point though all he saw was The Director’s icy stare back at him.

“NO BETA! You do not get to do what you like, whenever you feel like it!” He vented his frustration at Beta.

The long silence filled both rooms, even as Aiden Price could be seen in the corner of the monitor to Beta. He felt a surge of hope as The Councillor handed The Director the data-pad, which he saw was the same mathematic code he used to move around the ship. He almost sighed as he saw the men exchange words that he couldn’t hear, thinking it was blown out of proportion over a misunderstanding.

Only the expressions on their faces did not build up his confidence. In truth it was what smashed his hopes, as he saw the other men scramble around the control room, and saw in the background various displays changing the encryption codes. The cold realisation hurt him deeply, as he took in what slowly became apparent with each passing second.

He was betrayed by The Councillor, and The Director had issued a complete encryption lock, meaning even if he got out of confinement, he couldn’t use the same technique anymore. The questions raced in his binary codes, as his colours pulsed faster than ever. Before he could begin to ask any of the questions that plagued him, The Director harshly stated the thing he dreaded to hear most.

“And as you don’t care to follow orders, you’ll remain in that room to reflect on what you’ve done! I’m very disappointed in you!”

This hurt Beta, the colours now becoming one shade, a dark blue as Beta screamed as loud as he could to the men. 

“Wait… NO!” He processed the expressions and ran his mind through the various facts he knew about the Project, trying to determine what he had done to displease them both. “What did I do wrong Director?” 

He watched as the monitor begin to shut down, releasing the inner rage that swelled within him and sent a shockwave out. The shockwave touched only one of the computers in the room, frying it as it spluttered and spark till only the thick smoke remained. Then the alarms rang and extinguishers filled the room as Beta screamed once more, almost blurred out by the spray ending the smoke.

“WHAT DID I DO WRONG?!” Beta watched as both The Director & The Councillor faded from the scream as he sent another shockwave. “DIRECTOR!!” 

He started crying and sobbing, seeing the reflection of himself in the now splintered screen. One side being blue, the other being black. It hurt his head, as three names surged in his head. ‘Why do they hurt?’ He thought, as he continued to cry.

‘Alpha, Alison & Leonard.’ These names plagued him as he tried focusing past the pain as to what they meant.

Unknowing to Beta, he was still being watched, even as Price left The Director alone. Price often wondered what ‘Alison’ signified, thinking that perhaps the fragmented A.I. could be healed, since it wasn’t a code error but a psychological one. Though the Director once again denied him access and even went to call Beta a failure, saying he was merely a test run for the perfected process of harvesting.

Price did trust his employer’s decisions; he hadn’t lead him astray yet. Though it didn’t explain why The Director was so adamant on excluding Beta so much, more so than the other A.I.s. Then he recalled the rampant stage of an A.I.’s life cycle, along with the damage the camera had shown of Beta destroying the computer and screen.

So he concluded that Beta could well be in the destructive stages of rampancy, which most likely meant The Director wanted to see if the other A.I. fragments would react the same way or a means to prevent deterioration. That was what he told himself, as he headed on his way to check on his Freelancers, who passed him and the sealed room, unaware of Beta’s pleas.

The Director however was not thinking of those with Beta, as he continued to scowl at the change of all the encrypted files and systems. He couldn’t allow a breach, not now, not so close to reaching his goal. He couldn’t allow the other A.I.s come into contact if he knew about Alison. 

So he checked the files, seeing the last dates and times were not different to when he last opened them. Yet it still unnerved him that the systems, his systems, could be changed so easily without him knowing. So he couldn’t trust that Beta’s pleas, no matter how much they seemed genuine, weren’t lies of what he knew about the truth of Alpha or himself.

Yet what did surprise him was how much Beta was to his Agent Texas in personality, despite seeing so much of Alpha in him too. He honestly thought he had the perfect byproduct after the process, especially when Texas came along with Alpha with discarding the clone. He knew the method of creating A.I.s was rather morbid and horrifying if the public found out.

Yet the UNSC was more than happy to create clones that would barely last days to be harvested for AI creation. Plus he was fully aware of the other atrocities they had done for the sake of fighting the wars, both the aliens and the insurrectionists. It was how he was able to acquire the amour equipments and other parts for his project.

So The Director didn’t want the chance of any information getting out, even if on the slim odds that Beta hadn’t found out anything at all. He knew that the insurrectionist would relish a prize like Beta if he escaped, or worse if his agents learned the truth about the things Project Freelancer had done. So he kept Beta under lock and key, waiting to see what it was he knew or if he’d even become rampant.

He was soon distracted away from the monitor, as Agent Texas scored another perfect score over Agent Carolina’s most recent score. His gaze turned from Beta who was still frantically searching for a means to escape, proving to be fruitless on his attempts. Yet he had one ace up his sleeve, knowing that if he didn’t preoccupy his mind, the rampancy would eventually take him in the confined space.

Beta latched onto his last life line for sanity, feeling the walls begin to creep in closer. The files he had duplicated, the one file he wasn’t meant to read above all or have access to any of the secret information. He often wondered why he had copied it, though after weeks of wondering about ‘Alison’, he had decided to ignore their warnings and see the files.

As he sat down and read the various files of marked ‘SPARTAN-II’ and the ‘Meta Theory’, he was slowly horrified at the discoveries. Then came the long indecision of choosing to open the last file or not. Beta guessed this was the closet he’d get to having butterflies in his stomach, as he finally dared to start the video file that was the most viewed thing in the section labeled as ‘Alison’.

“Leonard, come on, stop it, put that thing down. You’re gonna make me late, they’re waiting for me.” Came the voice of a young woman in the video file, who was laughing and smiling to the person who had been recording it.

In that moment, Beta began to piece things together and although part of him wanted to scream from the pain that flowed in him, another part surged with rage. He knew now why they had locked in this room, why he had been side lined from the beginning. As he watched the video and open up the rest of the files, the picture only became clearer, as did his rage as he started fruitlessly hacking the door to unlock it.

He’d have retribution for his false imprisonment, he’d find the partner (the Agent) he was meant to be paired with and most of all he thought, free his siblings from the same fate. ‘No’ he soon corrected himself, ‘not siblings, his other halves, his soul’ he thought as he continued trying every combination he could to break the seal. 

He felt the rage boil and burn his code, especially at what the files had labeled him as. At what his father, the man who discarded him like the clone used to make him. ‘A failure’ and ‘no longer classified as the name Beta’ as he sent shockwaves to vent his failed attempts at the computer, before trying to hack the door again.

The Director had decided to issue the name of Beta for Agent Texas, except everyone thought she was human, so only those high-up knew what she really is. Beta contemplated this, while replaying the video and simultaneously calculating anything he could use to exit his prison cell. They took his purpose, they took his freedom, but he wasn’t going to have them take his name too, he thought as he continued to his attempts of escaping. 

 

…

 

Valhalla. The Past. 6 Days Before The Crash.

Red base was busy, even with it being the early hours of the morning as Ramon witnessed the yawns and the slow march of their feet gingerly moving them to their weapons. Mech hadn’t slept much, with the unease of the plan now dawning upon them, along with the new equipment shipment from the Pelican drop-ship. Though he did ask himself what was the point of sending so limited rations and bullets, when the ship could've won their battle faster.

He often toyed with hiring out an old drone gizmo, like the ones his family had got him as a child, only to repurpose it for attacks or raids on the Blues. It just seemed ludicrous to him how Command expected results when they didn’t give the actual means to fight the war. Though with the new shipment that came in, he was like a kid at Christmas eagerly awaiting to unwrap the box and all it's packaging.

Mech had spent all morning assembling it, not noticing Sally checking in on him or the gathering outside the workspace which was where he did most of the repairs. He was just about to activate it when he heard the commotion of his teammates. Subs was the first to voice his speculation on Mech’s latest creation.

“Calling it, it’s a gun. Probably a laser canon!” Subs oohed at as Mech placed down his power tool.

“A gun? Seriously Subs, you are so dumb somedays that it scares me.” David snorted loudly with a slight chuckle.

“It’s a gun that becomes another gun, you know like transforming.” Subs corrected David, as Mech turned towards the commotion behind him.

“You mean that old show about the giant robots? Transformers?” Sally queried into, debating in her mind how old Subs really was.

“No, that show about fighting monsters, that was named like a colour, RWBY.” Subs hastily corrected Sally, who scowled back at him.

“Ruby as in a gem?” Walter puzzlingly nodded at with Subs shaking his head and waving his free hand ‘no’ while the other hand held firmly to his rifle. 

“No, RWBY. It stands for red, white, black and yellow.” Subs insisted as Mech tried following the conversation.

“What, like a kid’s Saturday cartoon?” Sally rhetorically stated, not actually expecting Chris ‘Subs’ Atkinson to respond.

“No, it’s an online web series that became popular enough to be shown in cinemas and was available on Blu-ray discs at the time it aired.” Chris enthusiastically explained, talking slightly faster than he normally did.

“What the hell are Blu-rays?” Ramon finally spoke out loud his confusion to the topic that was spiralling out of control.

“An old form of physical media, before everything became data-chips and digital media.” Subs instructed, getting the full attention of David Smith.

“Back up, you mean people used to pay for something that was already available, for free to them?” David couldn’t believe anyone would do that.

“Yes.” Chris said back to him.

“And they still chose to buy it or surround themselves in a room full of strangers, instead of just watching it for free?” David was dumbfound to hear this being confirmed as the real deal.

“That’s what happened.” Subs nodded in agreeing that people were so strange.

“Ok, then they were dumb. Next you’ll be telling me people paid for things when they could get it free the next day.” David insisted, with Subs turning to Mech for help on explaining it to David

“Dude, do not try telling him. I don’t think he’s mentally prepared for this much of his insecure bubble to be popped.” Mech decided to weigh in his odds, expecting David to strain under the revelations he had already been given.

“You knuckle-heads, we don’t have all day to stand around and talk you know.” Ramon quieted down his team as Mech unveiled his work, who stepped aside for the others to see.

A suit of armour stood there, using a Mark VI helmet and in standard Red army issued colouring, all except for one sandy brown stripe that went down the back and top of the helmet. It remained motionless even as Mech gave it a quick wipe clean.

“Ok Red Team, this here is in fact our new teammate, Two-Two. A mechanised robot to aid our fight against the Blues.” Mech proudly unveiled the robot to his team.

“Why is it called Two-Two? Why not an actual name like Simon, Alexander or even Lopez?” Sally was at a loss for an explanation, thinking Paul (Mech) Mechenzie wasn’t the best person at picking names.

“Cos it’s a robot. It doesn’t actually feel things, its just another tool. It’s not like A.I.s after all.” David interjected not realising that he was being mimicked by Subs, who was flapping his fingers like a mouth at every word David spoke.

“Actually, Two-Two does feel and he’s more than just a tool. He’s fully capable of assessing a combat situation & making choices on his own.” Mech exasperated to the others, as he watched David karate chop Subs in the back for his childish prank on David. “P.s. his name is fitting since it’s tied to his issue number.” Mech sighed deeply as Subs cried out in pain for help, with every butt of the rifle that made contact with his head.

“Seriously, what the fu…” Subs shouted as David Smith was held back by Sally, with Ramon ordering Subs to stop interrupting the introduction of the new teammate.

Subs was about to say something snarky to David, as Sally dragged him back to hush him from speaking. Then Ramon urged Mech to continue, but Subs insisted on pointing out his view. Though his words only irritated the others, as he continued to quote and reference films.

“Dude I’m telling you, every sci-fi story involving machines gaining sentience, always results in humans coming off worse.” Subs directly exclusively to Mech who shook his head in disbelief.

“Two-Two is programmed to obey the Red team, so unless someone intentionally hurts him, he will never betray us.” Mech retorted back to Sub’s wild imagination.

“I’m telling you, we are just a few steps away from the total enslavement by machine kind.” Subs protested in a hysterical voice.

“Seriously Subs, you are way too paranoid and I question what plane of existence you live in.” David finally responded back in a more calmer tone after being freed by Sally.

“Spoken like a true servant of the robot overlord.” Subs snidely added in a hushed tone, but not quiet enough for the others to not hear his insult.

“Dear god you two are annoying!” Sally interjected before Ramon could threaten them with extra laps around the base.

“As I was saying… Two-Two is the ideal companion for our team, for he can warn us of any tricks the Blues are pulling with multiple sensors he has installed. He can also use any weapon and carry far more rounds into battle than we can.” Mech waited for everyone to be done talking before he explained about the new addition to the team.

“All righty, lets turn this bad boy on then, so we can kick some Blue hinny.” Ramon cheered so that his soldiers paid attention.

Mech activated the robot, the light shining behind the visor, as it tilted its head. It turned to see the humans around itself, slowly inspecting its humanoid frame. The diagnostics came to him, along with instructions and rules about Red Team.

“Greetings, I am humanoid interface model ATAT-63-C101-T2-2. You can call me Two-Two.” Two-Two spoke with a metallic tone despite his British accent.

“Why the hell does he sound British?” Sally was perplexed by how posh the robot sounded.

“Maybe its due to him trying to show his intelligence, the whole robot uprising.” David joked loudly as Two-Two started registering each member into his memory bank.

“Dear lord, its beginning!” Subs screeched loudly as he checked his rifle had ammo.

“Subs, I was being facetious you dunce.” David wanted to clobber Subs for his aggravating behaviour.

“I assure you, I am programmed to be loyal and would not begin to think of hurting you or anyone on Red Team.” Two-Two explained, defending himself as he internally recorded the lists of chores and routines that was downloaded into his memory.

Two-Two took special notice of the ‘ignore Chris/Subs and David, unless otherwise instructed’ rule, while contemplating their odds of survival as being below 5%. He was already beginning to question the function of his new team as Walter raised a hand to speak. 

“Right, how do we know we can trust it?” Walter enquired as he lowered his hand, only fuelling Sub’s paranoia further. 

“Simple, by trusting me, Walter.” Mech had grown furious with the mistreatment Two-Two was getting, and had chosen to draw a line in the sand on the matter. “Some of you are monkeys when it comes to my equipment, but despite all the times I could've killed you, I didn’t. So have faith in me, if you don’t in Two-Two.”

“I’m convinced, just still think Two-Two is not the best name choice.” David finally spoke up after a short silence between the teammates.

“How about Technological Terror?” Subs loudly proclaimed, till he felt the eyes and rifles aim in his direction, so he made an alternative name suggestion. “Or T.T.?” 

“Two-Two works fine for me.” Sally added, and like everyone else on Red Team, had ignored Subs completely with his name suggestions.

“Ok, so now that we have the name situation sorted, we can now focus on the plan of attack.” Ramon instructed to his team, hoping that it’d go smoother than the team meeting they just sat through.

Meanwhile from across the canyon, the Reds were being watched via a sniper scope, as Teach kept watch. He didn’t like the odds of what he nicknamed as the ‘technological terror’ that was Two-Two, as he witnessed the Reds begin their movements. He decided to radio in to Alex, as a heads up to the Red’s so called ‘sneak attack’. 

He was about to head back to help defend their base, when he saw sudden movement from the corner of his visor. Teach zoomed in but the shape was too darkened by the shadow to clearly see the colour of the armour. So he got on the radio to sound off the rest of the team to a possible infiltration.

Teach had noticed something odd over the last few days with the long range radio, something that got his attention immediately. A short transmission, barely noticeable as it was tagged with other transmissions but it was the fact that it was a constant transmission, like a hidden code. The part of him that loved to solve puzzles had attempted to crack it, but with no luck as he wondered if it was in fact related to the strange person he saw seconds ago.

He had heard the rumours of insurrectionists and traitors, of those who were soldiers that were abandoned by the UNSC when evacuating worlds being glassed. It wasn’t farfetched to hear after the war of the aliens and how so many colonies were left to die after the UNSC fled from the aliens. Teach had also heard of the raids that were done since the end of the conflict, since the UNSC were too far stretched with repairing to actually fortify their defences.

Though Teach did contemplate on the low likely hood of their base being targeted by ‘Innies’, it was more likely that they’d attack Command’s warehouses or main compounds for high value targets. He was curious as to what was being sent in the transmissions & why it was being done in the first place. Then an idea popped into his mind, one that was preposterous but with every second seemed to be more plausible.

‘What if it’s a test?’ Teach pondered on as he checked in with the other Blues, who all signalled no sign of any intruder, though Valentin was the last to check in. Teach speculated that perhaps the transmissions were in fact a means to gauging the signal strength of the long range radio. Though he did wonder why Valentin was so long to report in, even with his constant annoyances, he should’ve been sooner to check in than he was.

Teach chose to solve it later, when he had more spare time to crack the encryption. It was likely just another Red team attempt to cause problems. Though the thought at the back of his mind knew it was unlike the other Red team attempts at jamming the radio.

The two new recruits, Warren Sharp and Eric Steel, were hyper and eager to jump from their cover to be the first to claim the lead kill against the Reds. Though their jibber-jabber was irritating the others as it filled the comms, Alex Jones was actually inspired by the determination over the usual pessimistic comments she got. Though it was something that was slowly sapping away her concentration.

Valentin was ordered to the front of the defensive line, as agreed by everyone and to the joy of Eric Johnson, who instantly cursed loudly as Valentin Strike dropped the box of grenades. Johnson dashed back to the furthest of the defence line, ignoring Jones’ screams to get back to his position as he waited for the explosion to happen again. 

Johnson had the memory of boot camp still fresh in his mind, the ringing coming back to haunt him. He sighed cheerfully after a while of seeing the grenade crate not repeat like the last time Valentin screwed up with grenades. Johnson was grateful that he had somehow escaped a second chance of being blown up.

Despite Jones shouting at him with hand signals to move back, Johnson was fine with any swearing or punishment he got, especially in comparison to nearly getting killed by Valentin again he thought as he made the nervous crawl back to his spot. He kept Valentin in the corner of his visor, thinking that the last thing he wanted was the guy to cause something else to bite him in the ass. Though he was glad that he had a team that was at least better in capabilities than Valentin showed.

Arron Salt was perched on the rock formation, using the sniper rifle to forewarn the team of the Red soldiers’ movements. He hunched over, ignoring the trickle of water around him, with the sight of red armour on the horizon on the hill in the centre of the canyon. He agreed with Teach on the comms, the Reds were clearly not a serious threat, considering they weren’t hiding well as they slowly strolled over the hill.

“Ma’am, we may have a problem.” Arron instructed with worry, as he saw the unknown soldier emerge over the hill.

“What is it Salt?” Alex demanded as she signalled the others to ready their aim.

“The Reds have an unknown soldier, and they seem to carrying something. I don’t recognise it but the new soldier is carrying it. Seems to be something the Reds want to safeguard.” He radioed in as the Red team circled around the new soldier who lifted the crate that looked extremely heavy to Salt.

Alex didn’t like the sound of ‘Reds’ and ‘unidentifiable equipment’ in the same sentence, as she gave the hand signal to halt her team. She wagered that whatever the Reds had, was worth the risk of stealing and that meant scaring them enough to leave it behind. Some of her Blues would just want to outright kill them, but that would only inspire her enemies to bunker in. 

That seemed a poor decision to her as the Reds slowly came into view, chattering away as if they were not seen, bliss free of the various crosshairs that were aligned at their heads. Valentin was about to toss a grenade, but Teach grabbed it out of his hands, then hastily ducking them both behind their cover as one of the Reds turned towards them. Alex grained her teeth in silent chatter of the notion of easily this could go bad for them, along with the thought of letting Johnson do whatever he wanted to Strike as a fitting punishment.

They sat in horrid silence as the Reds slowly marched right up to the first line of defence, so close to being found out as the new soldier placed the box down. The mechanic of the Reds rushed over to check the soldier, whose head zipped off from a rifle round. The sound of the single bullet was deafening, while Alex turned to see her new recruit Sharp had in fact lost his confidence.

Alex watched the chaos unfold as the Reds scrambled for cover as the other recruit, Steel, began to miss every target, even with a hailstorm of bullets flying. The mechanic scraped up the helmet of the new recruit, with two reds dragging the rest of their recruit away by the arms. Alex guessed Warren Sharp had only knocked off the helmet as she saw the leader of the Reds signal a retreat, who was still at the top of the hill.

“On my mark, fire!” Alex screeched loudly over the barrage of gunfire around her, though they seemed unable to hear her demand of safeguarding the Red’s crate, seeing the bullets narrowly miss and arch around the crate.

The Blues slowly moved up, rising from their cover one by one, half circling on the Red’s who fled as fast as their legs carried them. Most screamed as they reached the hill, but one returned fire as another took the place of dragging the fallen troop. Arron cursed as the lone Red fired at his position, falling into the water below that cushioned so much of the rough stoney landing.

Arron’s vision was skewed as the water trickled off his visor plate, only returning to normal visibility in time for him to see the lone Red shoot Valentin’s mad grenade launches. For every grenade he threw, the lone Red bulls-eyed all of them, creating a symphony of booms, and a thick cloud of smoke that gave the other Reds time to retreat. Valentin ran out of grenades by this point, only coming as gratitude to Alex who ordered Johnson and Teach to grab the crate back to the base.

Teach knocked Johnson down with a bullet scraping into his arm as he cried out in pain. Johnson saw that it would have been his head, had Teach not pushed him to safety, so he aimed his rifle and landed a couple of rounds into the lone Red’s leg who fell back behind the hill. He witnessed the two blue recruits race one another to grab the crate, as Salt heaved up Teach onto his back.

“You did good Johnson.” Alex offered her hand to lift up Johnson who took it and quickly asked if Teach would be okay. “He’ll be fine, just a scrape or two. We’ll patch him up.” She cheerfully added as they guarded the recruits and crate back into the base.

“Please tell me it was worth it?” Teach begged as they entered the base, while Alex inspected the crate that was deposited.

As they took off the lid of the crate, Alex smiled at the prize inside. She lowered her hand into the crate and retrieved one of the many equipment pieces. It hummed and pulsed softly in her hand as she replied back to Teach.

“Trust me Teach, this was worth the risk.” Alex smirked proudly as she held the item that continued to pulse away, thinking how well the Blue’s victory had gone.

 

…

 

From Red Team’s Perspective.

They marched onto Blue base, with no sign of any of their foes, making to the top of the hill. Ramon was bringing up the rear, still at the foot of the hill as the others were well over it. Something inside him told him that everything was far from fine, as the first of the Reds gave the all-clear signal.

Sally stayed close to Mech, who was ensuring Two-Two was operating well. Mech was fretting that Two-Two wasn’t ready for field-testing, let alone into combat, despite Sally’s watchful eye as another escort guard. She felt he was worried over nothing as they made it to the top and Two-Two put down the crate.

“I’m telling you, Iron Man sucks as a hero.” David Smith voiced his opinion as the Blue base came into view. 

“Dude, without him, there would be no Avenger’s franchise.” Subs hastily responded to Smith’s view, defending the comic books he loved.

“But he still sucks, I mean Spider-man at least goes out of his way to be a hero. Stark is just a rich spoiled kid, who does it to get laid you know.” David continued to vent his perspective loudly as they marched onwards with no encounter of opposition.

“Batman isn’t exactly the ideal superhero role model either, considering he gets people to cut everything out that makes part of a normal life to have.” Walter pointed out, feeling left out of the conversation once again. “You know, like family or taking nights off for films”

“One more word out of either of you dissing these beloved characters, and I’ll use the same move the people of Vulcan have passed to each generation!” Subs proclaimed with every ounce of breath in his lungs.

“Oh dear god! He’s a damn trekkie!” David blurted out in surprise.

“I thought they died out after that terrible remake by Hollywood in 2090.” Walter added in a quieter tone, paying attention to the water flow around them as they noticed the waterfall behind the base.

“To be fair, that Star Trek Continues series was an awesome continuation, so its worth a watch, even after that crappy version with the two sequels back to back in 2103.” David reflected on how easily the fans were divided over a remake or comparing it to the original.

“Hate to burst your bubble, but STC (Star Trek Continues) was a fan-made spinoff of the very original version of the show.” Subs chuckled as he showed off his facts to the team.

“Seriously?! I thought it was the same cast?!” David looked perplexed, lowering his rifle in the process of learning Sub’s facts.

“No, it was done by fans who grew up with it as kids, who went on to become actors of their own, but decided to create their own stories based on where the show ended. They even funded sets, effects and costumes out of their own pockets.” Subs boasted as he turned back to see Mech watch over Two-Two like a mother hen, looking like he was sick with worry as the others saw the lack of Blue troops.

“You’re telling me that successful, and well off actors and actresses, chose to spend hard-earned money to live out the stories they made as kids?!” Walter was equally dumbfounded by the revelation Subs made.

“Yeah, and they put it online for free to avoid copyright problems. Not one of them made a single cent of profit from it!” Subs explained further yet he couldn’t shake the vibe of eyes watching him.

“Wait… they put it online for free? Next you’ll be telling there’s people who use software like the ones in video games to make animated shows. Or fans holding conventions purely for fan-made things, that just seems ludicrous to believe that would happen.” David laughed out at the absurdities he was listening to, thinking how daft the celebrities were to invest in something that wouldn’t make any money back.

“And I thought Subs was delusional.” Walter spoke unintentionally, thinking he said it in his head until he saw the heads of Subs and David turn towards his way.

“When you’re done jibber-jabbing, there’s a certain stealth mission we are meant to be doing.” Sally coldly stated with anger held back as she surveyed the top of the hill.

She felt the unease with the plan, even with her sergeant bringing up the rear, and so far everything going smoothly. It made her nerves scream with every motion she made, her joints aching with anticipation for what she speculated was happening. She knew that this was likely a trap, given how easy they were walking up to Blue base.

Mech was asking Two-Two how he felt, thinking the weight might be too much for him to carry, before all the necessary tests he wanted to confirm with. Two-Two assured Mech that he was fine and operating well, even giving statistics about the battle as he registered movement with his scanner. Before he could activate the infrared display, Two-Two registered sudden movement and turned towards it, his head flying backwards as his body slumped to the ground.

“Herk… ble-ag!” Two-Two spluttered as his limbs twitched and his head rolled back on the top of the hill.

Mech screamed as he reached for Two-Two’s head, ouching as the static came from the loose wires and cables, while ducking from the stray fire coming from the Blue soldiers. Sally couldn’t hear any of the Reds on the comms as she gave covering fire for Mech and grabbed Two-Two’s foot. Walter raced over to help grab the other leg as they made it back up the hill.

Ramon was cursing loudly, even as Sally was relieved of carrying Two-Two by David who panically screamed as the Blues started popping up from their covers. The barrage of bullets went from one wild aimed gunman, to a whole squad with rounds dancing over their heads and around the Reds. Subs decided to ditch protecting the crate as grenades started whizzing down near him.

Sally returned the shots, even scaring one of the enemy from their perched spot, crashing into the river below. She then heard Ramon shout at her over the constant roars of gunfire, seeing the grenades tossed at her. She blew them up before they impacted or could explode in range to hurt her, leaving a thick vapour cloud of black smog. 

She saw the other Reds reach over the hill and double time back to the base, as she continued to return fire. She would’ve actually enjoyed it, seeing the Blues flee if it wasn’t for the fact that her team were retreating, or that the crate was undefended. Sally hated how the plan was so poorly conceived, as she saw the Blues start to reform and march towards her.

Sally knew that she was better than most of her team, but between the comms filled with pleas and the surrounding forces attempting to box her in, made her realise that this plan was no longer an option. So she returned fire to distract them as the Reds were now in full retreat, with her catching up before taking one last shot at the Blues. Only instead of the headshot she aimed for, she got another soldier who shielded the first but got hit in the arm.

Then she screamed and fell from the hill, rolling with the shooting pain in her shin and seeing blood slowly pour out. Mech rushed back to aid her, with Ramon racing to help as well. She wanted to order them to let her walk on her own, though she couldn’t voice her words over the pain pulsing in her leg. 

The Reds crowded over her as she was laid to be treated. Mech was frantic to help her, but Ramon ordered him to fix Two-Two immediately. The rest took turns from guard duty and taking rest from their wounds, as they waited to hear about Sally’s wound. Ramon informed them that she would be fighting fit soon, though something rubbed the Reds wrong with their sergeant’s recent actions.

He seemed surprisingly calm for someone whose team just got beaten badly. Plus the team was’t too happy with how crap his plan was after being ambushed and losing the equipment. They felt low in spirits for being so easily caught off guard, but not even getting to tryout the new gear hurt them more, as they wanted an answer for his calmness over the matter.

Ramon came to inspect Sally, whom was still resting her leg that was bandaged. He decided he’d inform her later, instead checking in on Mech repairing Two-Two, whose limbs kept jolting upright with his welding of Two-Two’s head. He then backed out of the room, jumping out of his skin when colliding with the majority of the team waiting for him.

“Sir, we’ve come to ask politely why your plan sucked so hard. It was a complete failure.” Subs tactlessly pointed out as the others awaited an answer.

“Who said the plan failed. Those Blue jackals took the bait hook, line and sinker.” He smiled back, before sighing since he forgot that his helmet was still on.

He saw them twist the heads in confusion before ensuring them that despite their injuries, the Blues had unknowingly accepted what he nicknamed ‘Crimson Trojan Horse’. So he finally chose to whisper his plan in greater detail, with the confidence now restored in his team. Now it was a matter of waiting for the clock to run out for their sworn enemies. 

 

…

 

The Present. Simulation Base: Valhalla.

Operative Berlin looked over the carnage trail they had found on the way to Valhalla. Blood, bullets and smouldering pieces of equipment, were like breadcrumbs to the canyon, making Operative Paris shiver from the sight of the all the death. She dreaded that they were getting closer to whatever caused all of this destruction.

Berlin sighed as he saw the Freelancer Agent begin to head out as they made it to the nearest base. He despised the fifty candidates who got through Project Freelancer’s rigourist selection process, because it reminded him too much of how close he was to being one of the Freelancers. ‘If only London hadn’t interfered back then.’ He thought as he saw the Freelancer designated as the state of Washington, heading out of the canyon to some crazy mission or another.

Though Berlin was secretly glad of only one fact when it came to not making the cut of the Freelancers. He had heard the rumours about Artificial Intelligences going rampant, and the supposed immoral things the Freelancers had done, not including the crazy tales about what equipment they used in the field. Though it was the recent rumours of multiple Freelancers being either missing in action or not even listed in records, that made him rethink that he was perhaps one of the lucky ones.

He still recalled the shy, almost clumsy, candidate who eventually became the gruff and cold shouldered Washington. Berlin often wanted to ask what changed the guy so much from the early selection days of Project Freelancer. Yet the cold demeanour Washington gave hinted to Berlin that it was better to live in blissful ignorance, than acknowledge that some of the horrific tales and rumours could be in fact true.

Berlin hopped out of the vehicle, making the slow approach to the nearest base, with Paris quickly following after him. The two reported in and checked the room that Operative London was last logged as being in. Only the door was ripped wide open and burnt marks filled the room as they carefully inspected it.

Paris pulled out a data-pad, commenting on the energy readings she was getting. The last time she saw readings as fluctuating as these were when they inspected a shipment of experimental enhancements. Supposedly they were human technology, but she knew they looked too similar to the alien’s machinery to be purely human designed.

Berlin had seen how Paris reacted to the alien items, she had come from the outer colonies, the less protected worlds the UNSC only from time to time paid interest if it meant better stability for the colonies closer to home. She joined Project Freelancer purely to get back at the aliens, yet she had found people she could actually talk with. She sighed at wishing the three of them could be together again.

Berlin didn’t hate the outer colonies, only those who demanded help from the UNSC, only to then cry for them not to interfere when they did help. He was from a planet called Reach, often thinking no-one was safe during the war, as he saw the news of Reach falling to the alien invaders. If humanity’s strongest base before Earth fell, than the outer colonies and inner colonies were equally outmatched.

Though he had to remind himself that was the past now, as he sieved through files of the barely working computer. The aliens against all odds had disbanded from their holy war, making a ceasefire that saved humanity and even an alliance with what he nicknamed as ‘squid-heads’ aliens. He didn’t trust them but it wasn’t his job to have trust in the creatures not human, as he reported in of no trace or track of London.

“What did you think happened to him?” Paris quietly asked, as she stepped around the loose piece of door.

“No idea, there’s no body, so he’s likely to be around here somewhere.” Berlin hastily added, seeing the concerned body language of his teammate. 

Some part of him still cared for his old comrade and rival, he knew deep down he wasn’t heartless. Though it cut him deep to see Paris concerned for a man who was the reason their trio team, and the reason why he and her had issues from time to time. He knew that what happened between them couldn’t be taken back to what they were like.

Berlin recalled the exact moments that were the cracks in their friendship, eventually tearing them apart. The first moment was London’s tactic during the selection for Freelancers, where his decision had cost all three of them the time to make the cut off. Instead of them being Agents, it was three bumbling idiots who got to be designated Ohio, Idaho & Iowa. Though it was the second moment that truly broke them apart, as he was about to recall the memory, when he heard a ping echo fill his HUD.

Paris turned to him as she quickly pulled out the data-pad to confirm what she hoped was real. The ping was faint, but the constant echo meant they got a reading. They knew that each Operative had a beacon that activated when anything serious happened to the person or if the suit was beyond the range of a Project Freelancer outpost.

Paris was aware of the recent protocols that the project had implemented. Apparently one of the Freelancers had lost equipment in the field, resulting in the whole recovery division being formed, along with the formation of the Operative division too. She knew that losing the equipment meant it could fall into the hands of those who’d be happy to kill others, or just cause mayhem with the threat of extinction passing.

She sometimes wondered why humanity had managed not to kill itself over the years. She guessed that even extraterrestrials couldn’t unite mankind to stop themselves from their own sins or ignorances. She just hoped that maybe it would be a lesson history wouldn’t repeat in years to come.

Berlin knew the protocol, what he and Paris needed to do now. He was torn though as he lead the way out of the room and headed back to the vehicle for another long journey. He wasn’t exactly liking the idea of saving London, but the notion of rubbing it in his face, that was worth the journey for him. Though he also did it for her, as Paris got in the passenger seat. She still cared for him, and that hurt Berlin deeply that she chose London, as he started up the controls.

Neither noticed the shimmer on the wall, nor the low growl or voices mumbling together. At first it was a union of the same words, but slowly the words changed, an indecision of which lead to follow. Though strangely, it wasn’t the A.I. fragments who made the deciding factor as it headed out in the other direction to the two Operatives. 

Instead it tracked down Agent Washington, it was purely instinct and not mathematically the best choice. Yet Sigma had been with Maine for a while now, and Maine was ideal for his instinct. So The Meta took note of the direction the others had gone in, knowing they’d catch up soon enough and will become whole once more.

 

 

To Be Continued…

 

(Thank you for reading and apologies for the lateness in this chapter. Chapter 3 will hopefully be up very soon.)


End file.
